


Oh

by anathemafen



Series: Oh [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drabble, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Gross, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-17 19:45:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14196387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anathemafen/pseuds/anathemafen
Summary: Drabbles on Dragon Age babes realizing they're in love with their Inquisitor.





	1. Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> Not a great Solas voice but ehh just an exercise yea

She had sad eyes. 

It was the first thing he noticed about her, the way they would drift to whoever was speaking and then settle heavily upon them. As if even her gaze held a weight she couldn’t quite escape, some past sorrow that had latched on and eventually melded with her. 

She had chapped lips. 

It was the second thing he noticed about her, the way her tongue would dart out to wet them, a short reprieve from their aridity that only made matters worse. Sometimes they would be reddened and raw, dry skin shed revealing the softness underneath. He wondered if she was soft under her armour as well. 

She had small hands. 

It was the third thing he noticed about her, the way they flowed, working on whatever task had claimed her attention, a grace to them that was far too delicate for the magic breaking her palm. An elegance that was far too beautiful for the confidence with which they spilled blood. 

She had a fierce spirit. 

It was the fourth thing he noticed about her, the way she grinned after denying death and spitting in the face of adversity yet shouldering the weight of the world with a healthy dose of compassion. Like moonlight, she was radiant, luminous in the darkness that pervaded every corner they turned, a beacon against the shade that had fallen over this world. And yet, still soft, bright enough to ward off enemies but not blinding – not blazing like the hot sun. 

She had his heart. 

It was the last thing he noticed, and he noticed it too late. The way his heart fluttered at her lilting laughter, the most beautiful song he had ever heard. The way his lips curved up into a smile of their own accord when she came striding over to him, more questions on her tongue, a well of curiosity he hoped never ran dry. The way his shoulders eased whenever she walked away unscathed from a fight, the way they tensed and his magic flared when she didn’t. 

And finally, the way his fingers couldn’t stop trailing along her skin, soft and scarred, leaving goosebumps in their wake and small gasps he swallowed up. The way his tongue couldn’t stop tasting her, an intoxicating cocktail of ambrosia and adoration. The way his mouth formed the words unquestionably, _Ar lath ma vhenan_ , and the heavy guilt that sat stone still and cold until he saw her again. A cruel respite he couldn’t deny, a beautiful mistake he would cherish forever. 

She had his heart. 

It was the last thing he noticed, and he noticed it too late.


	2. Flustered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen realizes he is in love with the Inquisitor.

It came to his attention on a day like any other, mountain morning air nipping nicely on his flushed skin, the recruits needing another reminder to use their Maker-damned shields, and _her_ , pink cheeked and bright-eyed. Her lilting laughter could be heard across the courtyard and Cullen couldn’t help if his eyes were drawn to her. If they watched as she said something to a blushing Cassandra and let out another one of those laughs that made his heart flutter. 

And Maker’s breath, he was in for it. 

“Ser?” the scout prodded Cullen bringing him back to the present. The present where he was the Commander of the Inquisition’s army and not a blushing Chantry girl stealing looks at a crush across the courtyard. He cleared his throat and nodded looking down at the missive again, knitting his eyebrows when it proved more difficult to concentrate than usual. Cullen was not used to feeling like this. 

To _feeling_ , really. But to feeling…

“Oops! Sorry!” her voice suddenly cut through his once again fogged over thoughts and he whipped his head up only to catch her eyes as she passed a shield back to one of the recruits. _Maybe now he’ll use the damn thing._

Cullen returned her smile, blinking when she came to stand in front of him, and idly he was aware the scout was still lingering, waiting for orders. 

_Maker’s breath_ , he was a – _you are a grown man_ , his inner voice growled at himself as his eyes trailed back to the missive. 

Instead of even attempting to read it again he took it from the scout’s hand, a firm nod dismissing the agent before he turned his attention back to the Inquisitor. 

Cullen nearly stumbled backwards when she grinned at him, a glint in her eyes that had his stupid battered heart hoping. Of all things he had resigned himself to, a lonely bed and solitary life had been a sure thing. Hoping was dangerous.

“Uh, what can I do for you, Inquisitor?” he asked her, trying not to stare at her lips. 

“Oh,” and she _blushed_ and Cullen felt himself stand a little taller, surely, she couldn’t…? “I was wondering if you, maybe, perhaps… uhm, the tavern…” 

She was shuffling her feet, the most powerful woman in all of Thedas, was _blushing and shuffling her feet_ , spluttering out some request Cullen couldn’t quite piece together. He blinked when she looked at him in a beseeching manner and felt his lips quirking up when she frowned. 

Why was he so amused? Why was she so adorable? Wait, what? 

“Cabot just received a shipment of Ferelden ale!” she shouted suddenly. “Would you like to drink it with me?!” 

Her mouth snapped closed and her eyes went wide and Cullen stared at her, and _oh Maker no_ , he felt it bubbling up in his chest and she was already so flustered but the laughter broke out before he could suppress it. 

“I mean, not the entire shipment but -” she cut off abruptly as his chest rumbled with mirth and for a moment he was sure she was going to strike him. 

“Maker’s breath, I’m sorry,” he told her around a grin.

Andraste’s flaming ashes, what was happening to him? He felt... giddy. Giddy was not a word used to describe Cullen Stanton Rutherford. And yet... 

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck instinctually, a smile plastered onto his face. It faltered when he looked at her again and realized he hadn’t responded. 

_Oh, shit._ He hadn’t just not responded, he’d laughed. She was already turning to go, a traumatized look on her face when he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and gave her a gentle tug back. 

“I like that very much,” he blurted out and if they were not the most disgustingly awkward people he did not want to get close to whoever was above them. “I mean, yes, I would like that. To drink with you.” 

He winced. She blinked. The missive slipped from his hand. 

“Yes, good,” she nodded and then huffed shaking her head in a resigned manner. 

_Adorable._

And then because he was a beaten, battered, broken ex-Templar who had just felt his heart begin to sing, Cullen pulled her into him and kissed her, swallowing the next stumbling words he was about to say, tasting the flustered ones she would respond with. 

And it came to his attention on a day like any other that he was absolutely in love with the Inquisitor.


	3. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Iron Bull realizes he is in love with the Inquisitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know my Bull voice needs some work~

He is covered in blood.

Crimson droplets that turn to smears on silver skin with each swing of his axe. Another slice, another layer. Another life, another laugh. Maroon imbrues his face and he savors the taste, his heart singing in response.

Bloodlust some would call it. But he only sees it as a good fucking time.

His gaze traverses the battlefield, ichor and blood and ash settling into the soon to be fertile ground underneath. The Inquisitor is standing amongst it all, a triumphant smile on their face, hand glowing and weapon settled and when their eyes meet his eye, The Iron Bull lets out a bark of a laugh.

Adrenaline still runs rampant within his veins, chest heaving with exertion, breathing in the delicious smell of battle and victory. The Inquisitor closes the short distance around them, sharp eyes already roaming his skin determining whether any of the blood he wears is his own. Bull cannot feel pain in times like these, it all gets converted into his manic _need_ to kill.

The last time he came away with a nice-looking gash on his shoulder and didn’t notice until they were back at camp, the Inquisitor had _growled_ at him, a health potion and bandages in hands that weren’t as gentle as they could have been. He smirks at the memory.

“All clear, boss?” his voice rumbles from his chest, breathing steadying but heart still singing.

“All clear, Bull,” the Inquisitor says and winks. He grins in response hefting his axe over his shoulder as they set out, finding his eyes trailing along the Inquisitor’s figure.

It isn’t until they’re back at camp and his heart is _still_ singing that he notices it feels different. Not exactly softer, but not the jagged song, the rapid succession of heartbeats that accompany his battle frenzied state. No, it’s more… secure, more steady, something he can reach out and hold onto.

Bull mulls over it for some time before settling down at the fire. A hand touches his shoulder, caked-on blood beginning to become slightly uncomfortable. When he turns his head, the Inquisitor is looking at him, a wet cloth and waterskin in hand, a devious look in their eyes, lips quirked up in a small mischievous smile.

He doesn’t expect the cloth to touch his skin before he takes it, but a slow grin begins to tug at his lips, and he leans back into their touch.

“Thanks, boss,” he says. _Thanks, Kadan_ , he thinks.

And Bull realizes why his heart is singing differently.


End file.
